You Can Have What's Left
by lookskindagreyout
Summary: Human!Guardians AU. Winter is upon Burgess- can Jack find his place, or will it be only the cold, that remains? Homeless teen!Jack Frost, Gangster!North, Shop Owner!Bunnymund, Social Worker!Toothiana, Policeman!Pitchner, ? ? !Sanderson
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Rise of the Guardians and all affiliated characters belong to Dreamworks Entertainment, and the parties thereof- namely, William Joyce._

Chapter One.

He had almost frozen to death a few times already, this year. It had gotten expressly cold, in the past few days, even for January, and Jack had begun to look for other refuge, away from his traditional perch in the loading dock behind _Frosty's Frozen Foods_.

It was Tooth that spotted him, as he usually spotted her first and avoided the situation, but he must have been groggy from the lack of sleep, as she seemed to materialize before him, her thick coat and scarf shades of peacock blue and jade, "Jack," she said, a sad puff of fog emerging from her lips.

Jack pulled his hood down lower over his eyes, slipping past her and disappearing into the crowd.

He was on his way to another of his safe-havens- the pet store. It was a couple of blocks past the boy's home, shorter still, if he took a few frozen alleyways and skirted a chain link fence or two. It was a lot easier than people thought, and quieter, without shoes. Sometimes he would spook a few stray cats, sending the hissing felines scattering away into various corners and garbage cans.

The door of the shop jingled open in its traditional manner as he elbowed it open, and he was shocked to find strangers staring at him, "Whoa," Jack exclaimed with a smirk, "people shop here?"

Aster glared at him from over the counter. He was a tall, thin man, tattoos hidden on his cut arms by an un-ironed button-down and shop apron. He was fairly handsome, Jack guessed, save for his rather pronounced front teeth, which took away from his gruff demeanor considerably. It didn't help that his last name was Bunnymund, either, "Anyways," Aster said, returning to ignoring Jack and tending to his clientele.

Jack ignored him back, and took to wandering the shop rows, gazing at various pet foods and vitamins, immediately bored. He had learned long ago not to try and steal anything, as Aster had very keen ears, and was not above a sharp strike to the back of the head. Not that he could use or sell any of it anyways, Aster's business was always in the red, but the man only continued to care for his animals, regardless of profit. He had a lot in common with Tooth, in that respect, "Jack Frost," Aster greeted gruffly after the patrons had left, "what brings you across town?" His Aussie accent was clear and pronounced, in his agitation.

"Nothin' much, Easter Bunny," Jack chided in return, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his sweater as he surveyed the label of a can with disinterest. In truth, he hated the knick-name that had been given to him, but he wouldn't let it show, "I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop in and see how business was failing."

Aster scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest, "Is that all it is? I head the temp dropped to the negatives, last night. Small wonder you're still alive, kid."

Jack shrugged a shoulder, "I might be looking for greener pastures, I haven't made up my mind."

"Tooth was lookin' for you."

Jack frowned; "If you're telling me to go back-" he started defensively.

"I'm not tellin' you anything. I'm just saying it might be a good idea to have a roof over your head until this weather clears out." Aster carelessly adjusted a box or two on the shelf, "maybe she'd put you up for a little while."

"I'll be fine." apparently staying at the pet shop was out, "I've got something else going on. Tell her I'll be all right."

Aster leveled his gaze on Jack, "I don't want to see ya dead, Jack."

"I'm not going to die. Quit freaking out, both of you."

xXx

The Northmen, or 'Yetis', as they were commonly referred to, ran the gamut from the shipyards up to the bridge at Burgess Pass. It was a large part of the city, but there wasn't a lot of money to be made, in protection, as the area was mostly industrial warehouses.

But warehouses were a good place to hide things.

Nicholas St. North had been an orphan, much like Jack, and a good number of the Northmen, and had aged out of the program. His parents had been immigrants from Russia, or some such cold place, and had been killed in a robbery or a hate crime or something, North had never said. He had found work at the shipyards with a good number of the Yetis, a life of dull of unbecoming. A life of someone no parents had ever wanted.

Rumor was he had started the Northmen when he was eighteen, only a few months after he had been booted out of the home. They had begun by simply stowing away little bits of cargo and selling it for meager profits, and it wasn't long before the police had caught on, and North had been thrown in prison for three years. When he had got out, he had emerged a new man- one with a much, much bigger plan. Whole shipments had begun to disappear, untraceable. Inside jobs, but no one would point a finger, particularly at North. In the span of three months, it was said that he had over half of the shipping industry under his thumb- they got over eighty percent of their workers from the home, and he had known nearly all of them since childhood. Now, when a kid aged out, he could always find sanctuary with North and his Yetis.

All but Jack, it seemed.

North and Tooth had developed and accord, when she had retired from her dental practice and begun to volunteer at the Home, and she hadn't liked it. But there was no denying that someone had to look after the boys when the state wouldn't allow them any more time. The state may have placed them with a job, but North could give them more; he gave them a family. And for that, they were loyal to the core.

Jack had met North, when he had come to see Tooth, in the first few years she had started working in the Home. A towering man with thick, dark hair crisped with silver, and a broad mustache peppered with white. His eyes were bright and blue, his laugh deep and joyful- Jack had been young enough to think he was Santa Claus. He had even asked him why the other reindeer were so mean to Rudolf.

Jack got off the trolley and avoided a traffic officer that might have asked him for a ticket he clearly didn't have, and made his way across the snowy sidewalk to the cleared bit of roadway. A truck honked at him and he waved at it aggressively, and it swerved around him. In a few fleeting steps, he was crouched on the tailgate, headed west.

You could pretty much be certain that any truck going in to the area would be going to North. Jack had only to wait, picking at the chipped white paint on the hatch, until they reached their destination. Jack could never be sure of when North would move his operations, only that he often did.

They passed a few chain-link gates, rows of tall, tagged-up steel storehouses lining the narrow road, and Jack squinted at each of them carefully in passing. His legs had fallen asleep, by the time he found what he was looking for- a slightly listing, spray-paint depiction of a Christmas tree.

He stepped off the truck and nearly fell, on the ice, regaining his footing and hurrying into an alley beside the warehouse and out of view. It took him a few minutes to find a hole in the rusted chain link that he could wedge himself through, cautious as he climbed up a stack of empty crates to a broken window.

He could hear a few phrases in Russian, as he slipped inside, soundlessly dropping to the floor on bare feet, and North's booming laugh echoed over the shuffling sounds of busy working and the constant hum of trucks idling. From the looks of it, North was getting ready to move again; tall, bearded men were hauling everything from canned goods to furniture into the backs of semi truck trailers. The noise and movement made it easy for Jack to slip around unnoticed, and he shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweater, calmly approaching the huge form of the man calling orders.

"Hey, North," Jack greeted jovially, causing the big man to jump.

"Jack Frost!" North greeted cheerfully, after he had overcome his initial surprise. The rest of the Yetis eyed Jack with equal shock, but far less compassion, "What brings you across the tracks?" North may have meant it as a joke, but the warehouses were literally on the other side of the train depot.

"Just wanted to see what was up," Jack replied evenly, situating his hands in the pocket of his sweater, gazing around absently at the yetis, whom were covertly shuffling away anything that might be incriminating out of sight. It irked Jack, but he said nothing.

"I am happy to see you alive, young friend," North stepped away from the table, pushing his sleeves up his tattooed forearms, "It was very cold, last night. Where did you stay?"

That was North- always to the point. Jack had always had a suspicion that this was due in part to his one-track mind. But perhaps he could use it to his advantage, "You know me. Here and there." Jack pointed to some crates nearby, "hey, what's in those?"

North ignored his question, fixing him with a serious gaze, his thick fingers playing over his white mustache and beard, "This is no good. It is too cold to be staying out, at night, too dangerous. I worry."

"So let me stay here," Jack shrugged, still trying to catch a glimpse of the crate as a Yeti shuffled it away with a quick glare in his direction, "I could help you guys."

North shook his head, the brightness of his eyes seeming to lessen, "No. I tell you no every time. You should go back to Tooth." He turned his back to Jack to shout something in Russian to one of his men.

"I can't go back to Tooth," Jack growled, pursuing North, "You know that. I aged out three months ago- there's no place for me at the home, now."

"Then get a job."

"Come on, North. It'll just be until it starts warming up again. Just until it isn't so cold," North was looking at him, now, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, and Jack pulled his hands from his pockets, shrugging, "Just until I can get my feet under me."

"What happened to the shoes I got you for Christmas?" North questioned.

"They didn't fit," Jack lied, never breaking eye contact, "what do you say?"

North sighed, raising his hand to smooth his nearly-white hair back on his head, "Well..."

Jack tried not to look too pleased with himself, "I swear, I'll stay out of the way. You won't even know I'm here. I'll just learn from the Yetis-" and with that, he had stepped too far, and North's expression darkened and Jack knew he had lost him.

"No. I'll call Tooth and have her make a place for you. And I will buy you shoes- what size?"

Jack bit back his reply, "Forget it." And turned on his heel, pulling his hood up over his head.

"Jack, come on," North called after him, "Let me help you!" Jack slammed the door of the warehouse behind him.

Jack pushed his way out through the chain link, slipping out into the snow. His throat hurt, and his ears burned- he though back on his young self, and the first time he had wished North would adopt him, and remembered every time North had left the home without him. Jack cursed, and took off at a run to lose his thoughts in the frozen city.

xXx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Jack awoke, warm. It took him a few moments to grow frightened- he had heard somewhere that being warm was what happened to you when you got way too cold. He forced his eyes open wide and sat up, the warmth vanishing as his cheek left something soft.

He blinked, sitting up on the bench he had procured for the night, unkinking his cold legs to feel the hot trickle of blood rush in to his muscles. He reached up to rub at the fading warmth on his cheek, and looked down, finding, much to his surprise, that he had company, on his bench.

A small- no, tiny- man sat quietly on the bench, hands folded across his slowly rising and falling chest, snoozing contentedly. His equally tiny feet were propped up on a battered brown briefcase, one so large that it looked as if the man could fit in to it comfortably. He did not stir, as Jack scrambled away from him, his groggy disorientation vanished. He rubbed at his eyes, gruffly demanding, "What the hell, man?!"

The stranger did not move. Jack swallowed, his aggression momentarily replaced with curiosity. He crept forward on the bench, peering at the paper tag affixed to the handle of the tattered luggage, reading Snowflake, AZ in formal print. "Um..." Jack reached out, touching the man's shoulder, "hey."

He snored on, unbothered.

Jack prodded him again, a little harder, stating a little more loudly, "Hey."

The man's round face scrunched and he shifted away from Jack's touch, sighing through his nose.

Agitated, Jack frowned, this time shouting, "HEY!"

The little man blinked awake, his hands parting, and he yawned silently, stretching his arms above his head. Then he settled back down on the bench, a small smile on his face, and he surveyed Jack serenely.

"Um, I think you missed your bus," Jack stammered, suddenly taken aback by the calm that seemed to imitate from the stranger.

The little man seemed vaguely surprised, pushing up the sleeve of his worn brown blazer and checking his watch. Jack could see the face was cracked, before the man smoothed his sleeve back down, shrugging. He hoisted himself up from the bench, dropping down on to the sidewalk. He gave Jack another cheerful smile and a small wave, before stooping to begin struggling with his all-too-large suitcase.

"Do you need some help?" Jack questioned before he could stop himself. The man shook his head, his brows furrowed as his wild, sand-colored hair seemed to wave back and forth in his efforts, still struggling with his burden. Jack sighed, getting up from the bench and scooping up the surprisingly heavy load, "dude, just let me help you. It's not an inconvenience, really."

The stranger looked up at him, and his bright smile returned, accenting the freckles on his face. He pulled his yellow scarf tighter around his neck, and jovially motioned for Jack to follow.

"Where are you staying?" Jack asked, as they reached a vacant corner. The little man shrugged, looking both ways down the vacant street and hopping off of the curb.

"There's a hotel two or three blocks over," Jack suggested, "It's not the best, but it's cheap," the stranger nodded, and Jack suddenly found himself sharing his smile, "and it's a lot better than a bus bench."

He stepped aside, and motioned for Jack to lead the way.

"What's your name? Where are you from?" Jack questioned, as they plodded along. He shifted the briefcase from one hand to the other, wondering how such a small man could have carried the thing at all. He looked down at his companion for the answers.

His blonde brow furrowed, and his mouth flattened with concentration. Jack was wondering if he had offended him, until he raised a small hand, pressing his fingertips to his throat and locking eyes with Jack.

"What?" Jack asked, confused.

The stranger tapped his throat, and shook his head.

"You can't... talk?" Jack guessed, and the little man nodded, "You're mute? I'm sorry- YOU'RE MUTE?!" He shirked away, his face condensing at the way Jack had shouted, then quickly pointed to one of his ears, before giving a stiff thumbs-up, "you can't talk, but you can hear..." Jack translated slowly, and he nodded, "Oh, wait, that's deaf... sorry."

The little man shrugged.

Jack was wondering if he should ask any more questions, as it appeared he would get no answers, but pointing drew his attention to the tag on the briefcase. He set the luggage down to pluck the tag up in his fingertips, noticing scrawling handwriting on the other side he had not seen before, "Sanderson Mansnoozie," he grimaced at the oddness of it, and returned his attention to his companion, "that's your name?"

The man made a wide motioning with his arms, accompanied by a long whistle, then shook his head. He brought his hands much closer together, whistling shortly, and nodding, "Shorter?" Jack guessed, and was confirmed by more nodding, "Like Sanderson? No? ...Sandy?"

Sandy grinned, his two front teeth showing just a little more than the rest. "Isn't that a girl's name?" Jack questioned flatly, and received a mute chuckle. "Well, I'm Jack. Nice to meet you, Sandy," and they shook hands.

Sandy seemed pleased with their progress, so Jack proceeded with more questions, "Where are you from?"

Sandy shrugged, seeming to think the answer unimportant, and seemed a little bored to think about it.

"Were you going to Arizona? That's a pretty long ways. Not that I'd suggest staying here. This place sucks. It's always cold-" he paused, as Sandy was tugging on his sleeve and pointing. "Huh? Yeah, that's the Dennys..." But Sandy was beckoning him toward it.

The sun was well up by the time they had each finished three stacks of pancakes, and Jack was well in to his fourth. Much to his surprise, the conversation had never waned- Sandy seemed entirely capable of holding up his end with hand motions, small, bird-like whistles, and his ever-present smile.

Jack had nearly decided to like him.

"So, why are you going to Arizona?" Jack finally asked, dumping the rest of his pancake syrup in to his coffee.

Sandy sipped tea, blinking every now and again at the bright sunlight that would chance through the blinds across the restaurant. He raised his hand to stop the glare, using the small motion to avoid the answer.

"You don't like talking about where you're from or where you're going." Jack lowered his voice, glancing around at the empty booths and leaning forward suspiciously, "Are you in some kind of trouble?" Then he sat back, waving his hands, "no, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

He could almost hear Sandy's laughing, though no sound crossed the booth. He shook his head, drinking his tea again, and Jack smiled. The waitress chanced by, the check floating to the tabletop.

Jack felt himself tense in the seat, "Uh, listen, Sandy..."

Sandy plucked up the receipt paper, surveying it for a few moments before reaching in to his coat to fish around for his wallet. He plucked out a few, flat bills from the fold, placing them beneath the tab and sliding it to the side. Jack let out a small sigh and settled down a bit, "Thanks."

Sandy nodded, graciously allowing the matter to pass.

Outside the diner, Jack was stretching on the sidewalk, "So, how long are you staying?" he sighed, scratching his stomach; "you can tell me that, can't you?"

Sandy shrugged, surveying the city in the daylight; long stretches of icy streets and frozen cement. Jack shivered, his nose running. It must have seemed even beautiful, to an outsider, but all Jack could see was the cold. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, jamming his hands into the pockets of his hoody as the last warm traces of the diner left his clothes, "Will you be staying at the hotel? The one I mentioned?"

Sandy arched a brow, pointing down the street, before making a turning motion, looking to Jack for approval. Jack nodded, "yeah. So, um, 'mind if I stop in some time? You know, to say hi?"

Sandy looked delighted.

Jack grinned, "Cool. Well, I guess I'll see you around, Sand-man," Jack pulled up his hood, "thanks for the flapjacks."

Sandy hoisted his briefcase up, appearing surprisingly sturdy for his height, and gave a wave. "Cool," Jack repeated, and turned to find his own way. It was only a few steps before he realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten in a restaurant, or had a hot meal... or smiled.

xXx

His toes were numb when he showed up at the pet store, and Aster looked offended at his crossword, "You're trackin' in mud."

"Yeah. Hey, what's in Snowflake Arizona?" A parrot squawked at his elbow, and Jack flinched away from it, before glaring.

Aster lifted his eyes from his newspaper, "Why'd'ja ask me?"

"I don't know. But you know what's there, right?"

He doffed his newspaper down onto the countertop, "Yeah. A whole lotta heat and nothin'. Why, thinkin' 'a' takin' a road trip, are we?"

"You wish." Jack pulled his finger out of the parrot's cage as the bird nipped at him, "does anything happen there?"

"Where?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Arizona."

"Yeah, sure. But not'n Snowflake. I spent a night there once- hey, you hungry?"

"Nope. Why would someone go to Snowflake, if there's nothing there?" Aster moved out from behind the counter, throwing a cover over the parrot cage and casting a warning glance at Jack for messing with his bird.

"No clue. I kin understand leavin', I was happy to. What's this all about, anyways?"

_Sleepy-time!_ The parrot croaked in an echo of Bunnymund's nightly send-off. Jack smirked, as it echoed the pet store owner's Aussie accent.

"Just curious. Why do they call it Snowflake?"

"Kid, yeh can't just keep bringin' me these random questions and not expect me t'ask a few 'a' my own. Where are you stayin'?"

Jack frowned at him sourly, "Did Tooth put you up to this?"

Aster glared back, "Yeh put that woman through hell, y'know-"

"I'm staying at a hotel, okay? And go ahead and tell her that, I don't care," the parrot had preened and settled into sleep behind the sheet, and Aster watched him suspiciously, before moving off to gather up a few cans of dog food from the shelf, taking them back to the counter.

"You're lying."

"I am not!" Jack protested.

"Then how'd'ya get the money, Jack? And don't say North, he doesn't do child labor."

Jack's face heated, "I'm working as a dishwasher at the diner. Not that it's any of your business. It's none of any of your business, you, Tooth, or North."

Aster looked up at Jack, pausing in his clearance labeling, orange sticker half-on the can lid, "Jack, why don't you come 'n' work here? You can stay in the shop a while, there's a cot in the back, and it ain't much, but-"

"No. I'm fine. I don't need hand-outs, okay? I've had enough of those. Thanks anyway." Jack pulled his hood over his head, "Later, Bunny-man."

"Jack?" Aster called from behind the counter, as Jack shoved the door open with a violent jingle, "You've gotta have shoes to work, Jack!"

xXx


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thanks for all of the support, everyone! I'm glad you've all given my AU a shot. And, as a request: anons, log in so I may properly love you!_

_Now, here's some Pitchner, FOR THE LAYDEES._

Chapter Three.

The windows were smudged from the noses and fingers of children looking in on department store toy displays. Christmas was long over; it was mid-January, now, and they still hadn't been washed off, and Jack noted how there were all of a height, little blurry trails on the glass like water-lines around a pond.

He did not venture downtown often. He had mixed memories of the place; small trips taken with a group of fellow boys from the home, some attendant in the lead as they explored the various shops and played in the landscaped grass, waiting for the bus. Summers had been fun, especially at night, with the noises of the city and the bright lights making the sidewalks glow. Jack had quit going, around the time he had turned ten, and it felt like summer had been gone for years.

A strange thing he had noticed, when he had started to frequent the strip malls and commuter platforms again- it appeared that he was invisible. Well, not in a physical sense, but no one looked his way, no one made eye contact, and no one spoke to him. Where ever he went, he went unseen or avoided, like a drift of snow or a chill breeze. It seemed like only the people that wanted to give him trouble saw him.

Like officer Pitchner.

His black uniform stood away from the snow like coal, as he seemed to materialize before him, smiling slyly in greeting, "Hello, Jack."

Jack glanced around uncomfortably, pulling his hood further over his head in an attempt to hide his face, "What do you want, Pitch?"

Pitchner chuckled, "I'm just happy to see you out and about. You haven't been on my beat in a long time, not since the last time I caught you. And don't worry- your Yeti friends don't come close enough to my territory to see our little conversations."

Jack frowned up at the police officer, "He's not scared of you."

Pitchner only continued to smile, "Good."

"I'm not scared of you, either."

Pitchner placed a hand on his shoulder, "You know you have nothing to fear from me, so long as you follow the rules. I know you're a good kid, Jack." Jack shrugged off his grip, and Pitchner sighed.

"Yeah, whatever."

"I heard you got out of the home a few months ago," Pitchner stated.

"So?" Jack snapped, irked that his business seemed to spread so quickly. He was glancing around at passersby a little too quickly, now, fully aware of their stares, and his face began to heat.

"Where have you been staying?" Pitchner asked, almost gently.

Jack shrugged a shoulder.

"North turned you away again, didn't he?" Jack looked up at Pitchner with a nod, and the officer seemed to recoil with anger. It took only a few seconds to compose himself, his tall, lean frame straightening, "I keep telling you, Jack- he's a criminal. Criminals have no room in their lives for anyone but themselves."

Somehow, it felt almost good to have someone as angry at North as he was. And Jack almost fell for it.

"Have you given any thought to my offer?"

Jack's glare returned, "I already said no. I'm not a fucking traitor." He moved to duck past Pitchner, but was stilled as the policeman gripped his arm.

"A traitor to what? They don't want you, Jack. Why do you care about what happens to them?" Pitchner smiled again, with false sincerity, "You could help me stop them. Prove that you don't need them as much as they don't want you."

Jack returned his fake smile, "You said it yourself, Pitch- they don't want me. What information could I give you, if they never let me in?" And Jack edged past him, slipping away and crossing the street.

Pitchner did not move to follow him, as he watched him over his shoulder, and he had turned a corner to be out of sight when he saw Tooth watching him from the frosted window of a cafe.

Jack's breath fogged, as he let out a sigh, and Tooth was already scrambling toward the front door to get to him, "Aw, man..."

"Jack!" She called from the steps, "Jack wait, please!"

Jack stopped, sighing again, begrudgingly turning to face her. There was silence, between them, Tooth staring at him with wide, violet eyes, until he at last spoke, "Hey, Tooth."

Tooth rushed forward, checking the temperature of his forehead first, her hands fumbling over him, and she was chattering in near hysteria as she pried open his mouth to check his teeth, "How are you? Are you sick? Have you been eating? You haven't been eating! You're too thin- Jack, it's been so cold, I've been so worried about you- how are your teeth, have you been brushing?"

"Toof," Jack growled, as she peered into his mouth.

"You were always so good about brushing-"

"TOOF," Jack repeated, giving her pause. He gripped her hands, pulling them away from his face to glare in to her eyes. Her gaze flicked around his face, as she seemed near tears, "I'm fine, okay?" His expression softened, his voice quieting as he repeated, "I'm fine."

"I was so worried about you, Jack," Tooth rasped. She seemed to suddenly gain her composure, stepping away to rub her eyes dry and clear her throat, "You have been brushing, I can tell."

Jack grinned, "When I can. You pretty much drilled the habit in to me."

Tooth returned his smile, "Good." And another awkward silence befell them, a car alarm going off in the distance, echoing hollowly down the street.

"So, how's stuff at the house?" Jack questioned, raising his hand to the back of his neck again.

"Oh! Good, just fine- most of the boys have already broken or lost their toys, you know how it is," Tooth chuckled, and Jack shook his head with a smile. Tooth reached for him again, before stilling, and pushing her hands into the pockets of her coat, "How have you been?"

"I've been okay."

"Aster says you've been working."

Jack smiled, at how it brightened Tooth's face, "Yeah. Dishwasher."

"It's hard work, I'm sure, but... I'm really happy for you, Jack. Worried, but happy." Tooth raised a hand to push a lock of dark hair behind her ear nervously.

"You don't have to be worried about me, Tooth. I can take care of myself," Jack reasoned gently. He knew that she knew it was a lie; his fake job, where he was living, how composed he was, "You raise good kids, you know that?"

Tooth smirked, "You never needed much raising, Jack. You did that yourself."

"Yeah, but I never flossed, remember?" Jack pushed his hands into his pockets, grinning, and Tooth laughed.

"You still don't," Jack shared her laugh, until she sobered, "we've missed you, Jack. Especially Jamie, he asks about you all the time. And the girls, we all do."

"I've missed you guys, too. Tell Jamie I'm fine, and your little mini Tooths, don't keep 'em worrying on my part," Jack continued to smile, even as Tooth got that familiar look in her eyes.

"Jack, why don't you come back-"

"You know I can't come back, the state won't allow it. I keep telling you not to worry about me; I can take care of myself, okay?"

"North called me, the other day, asking about you. He wanted to make sure I had a place for you, and I thought that maybe you'd come back," Tooth confessed, "but... you won't, will you?" Jack shook his head, and Tooth's eyes fell with a nod, "I figured. North always did have his nose in everyone's business."

"Listen, I've got to go, Tooth. It was nice seeing you, okay?" Jack pulled his hood down from his head, smoothing back his hair, "Just... take it easy."

Tooth opened her mouth to speak, before shutting it again, smiling painfully, "Okay, Jack. I hope I can see you again. Take care of yourself- eat more, you're too thin."

Jack snorted, "Sure. Tell everyone I said hi."

It was an unceremonious parting, Jack had to admit that it was frightening him a bit, the way Tooth was looking at him- as if it were the last time she was ever going to see him.

xXx

The day hadn't amounted to much of anything. He had managed to knick a bottle of water from the supermarket next to the gas station, and the guy behind the deli counter had given him a half of a sandwich that someone hadn't paid for out the back door. He had eaten his meal in the solace of the bridge eves near the train station, a perch even the pigeons had abandoned, in search of warmer climates. He had napped for a while in a sun spot, legs dangling over the side, until an especially strong, icy blast of wind rocked him awake.

His hand scrambled for grip on the sticky, frozen iron, the half-full plastic bottle at his side knocked from the ledge to spiral over the edge, dropping nearly a full two stories to land in the snow beside the track without a sound. Jack was panting, sweat prickling on his brow.

A roar overtook him, as he blinked the last of sleep from his eyes, wiping his lips on his sleeve as a train rumbled down the tracks below, air rushing up at him, as if to push him back on the ledge from which he had nearly fallen. Jack shakily climbed to his feet, careful of his footing as he made his way off the bridge and into the snow.

His heart was slowing when the train was disappearing down the tracks and he spotted something crouched beside the rails, nearly in the exact place his bottle had fallen. Jack squinted with a frown, before brightening, and starting down the steep side of the gully.

Sanderson was stooped beside the track, palm flat on the cold iron railing, smiling at something he found amusing before he straightened, pulling a knitted yellow mitten back on to his cold fingers. He was already moving along on the tracks, widening his steps from one tie to the next when Jack caught up to him, breath puffing in the chill, "Hey, Sand-man."

Sandy jumped a bit, at Jack's fairly sudden arrival, before he smiled, waving cheerfully in greeting.

Jack skipped up onto the iron rails, balancing atop them as he walked, "What brings you out here?" Sandy pointed, and Jack looked up at a still line of empty train cars nearby, "Oh. You like trains?" Sandy shrugged shyly, and Jack laughed, "Yeah, I guess they're pretty cool. Loud, though."

They strode on in silence for a while, and Jack could feel the distant vibration of the train that had passed, now well out of view, and he glanced over his shoulder at the bridge, eyeing the distance he would have fallen, "Hey Sandy, can I ask you a question?"

Sandy was tightening the scarf around his face, and nodded.

"You've traveled a lot, right? Been to a bunch of different places?" Sandy nodded again, arching a brow as he watched him. Jack breathed into his hands for warmth, "Are there any places this...cold?"

Sandy chuckled silently and shook his head. Jack stood on one foot for a second, then hopped to the other, before following after Sandy again, "Yeah, I was just downtown. Have you been downtown, yet? Burgess is pretty small..."

Their walk along the tracks passed in Jack telling Sanderson everything he could think of. Tooth and the home, North and the Yetis, Bunnymund. Pitchner's offer to spy on North's organization... and Jack's own temptation to take him up on it. Sandy's silent nodding and occasional gestures were an odd sort of comfort, to Jack; devoid of judgment and without argument.

"Well... It feels like they don't know me at all, does that make any sense?" Jack swayed a bit, in his tilting motions, before stabilizing himself, his feet sticking slightly to the cold of the iron, "I mean, they know me, like, about me and who I am, but they don't know me. Does that make any sense?"

Sandy, hands in his pockets as he breathed into his scarf for warmth, nodded.

"Cool. See, Tooth's only known me since I was seven, and North, too, so I guess they're the closest thing I have to parents. Not that they really wanted me, I guess, I was just another kid in the home, so I guess I didn't mean much. And they were nice to everybody, I wasn't anything special. But... it feels like they go out of their way to stop me from doing anything. It's weird. It's like they only care about me enough to keep bothering me- especially now that I'm out. Why would they do that?" He looked to Sandy, somehow expecting an answer.

Sanderson let out a foggy sigh, shrugging. He stumbled over a lump of coal, and his eyes returned to his footing.

"I don't get it either. They say the want to help me, but they refuse to. Tooth just wants me to work some lame job at the shipyard or the train depot or something, and it feels like North doesn't want me at all. Bunnymund is all-right, but he just keeps an eye on me so he can talk to Tooth once in a while."

Sandy smiled and shook his head, before Jack continued, "It just makes them all so happy, when they think I'm working some lame job, when they got to choose their own way in life. I should get to chose, shouldn't I?" Jack stepped off the rail and into the snow beside Sandy, "You got to choose, didn't you?"

For once, Sandy did not answer.

The track split, one lane leading off down the bend, where the train had gone, the other ending abruptly in an old, wooden, tagged-up train car. Sandy seemed ready to pass it by, before Jack paused, stilling him with a hand to the chest, "Hold up." Jack's brows furrowed, as he crept closer to the leaning car, "is that...?"

A spray painted Christmas tree was fresh, on the sliding door.

Jack jogged the rest of the distance to the train car, Sandy following him at a distance, seeming confused. Jack pointed, "You see that mark? North uses that mark. But don't tell anybody, okay?" The door was chained shut, and Jack raced around the length of the car, searching for any gaps in the wooden planking, "I wonder what he could be hiding, in here...?"

But Sandy was stooping under the old, rusted tracks, peering around in the dim, before scrambling out of view, "see anything?" Jack called after him. Sandy re-appeared shortly after, smiling brightly and motioning for Jack to follow.

Jack crawled after Sandy under the car, traveling only a short while to find an opening in the floor near one of the rotten corners, wood decayed away and weak from age. Sandy stood as well as he was able, clawing away at the ingress as it crumbled under his grip, until he could wriggle inside. Jack was quickly up after him, the hole more than large enough for his lean frame, and he was dusting his sweater as he squinted around in the dim.

He spotted a stack of crates in the dry corner, ones he recognized immediately from the warehouse where North and his yetis had kept them. Jack crept closer, pulling away the tarp that covered them. He looked back at Sandy, whom was still picking wood debris from his unruly hair, "Hey, you got a pocket knife or somethin'?"

Jack was nearly disappointed, when he wrenched open the first crate, "Paper?" he frowned flatly, "What does North want with papers?"

Sandy waved a hand to silent him, delving in to the box to pluck up a few sheets, reading over them carefully. His eyes widened, and he passed one along to Jack, "What is it?" Jack squinted at the print, "It's a birth certificate. Why...?"

Sandy passed him a social security card under the same name.

Jack gaped in shock, "These are identities. North is stealing identities?" And Sandy shook his head, showing an identical social security card to the one Jack held, "They're fake?"

Sandy blew air through his cheeks, shaking his head and stepping away from the crates.

"He's in over his head," Jack whispered, still sifting through the paperwork, "If Pitchner finds this, he's going down for life..."

There was the sound of voices, outside the train car, and Jack froze. Sandy was staring around wildly as the chain on the door jingled, and Jack crammed his handful of papers back inside, wedging the crate shut and pushing Sandy toward the hole in the floor.

The door was hauled open just as Jack was stooping to duck under the floor.

The harsh, guttural conversation of the yetis could be heard over the tramping of boots overhead, and Jack shuffled behind Sandy, hurrying under the car and away from the noise.

Jack stilled Sandy, as they crouched under cover. He peered out at the feet of the Northmen, at least six or seven, not counting perhaps two inside the car. A truck was parked nearby, hatch down and idling, and after that, a clear shot to the timberline.

"We need to run, Sandy," Jack whispered hurriedly, "Okay? On my signal. One, two- run, RUN!" Jack prodded Sandy's side, and they leapt from cover, racing across the snow. Jack heard a yeti exclaim behind them, fear pushing him faster. Sandy, amazingly swift for his stature and weight, was already ahead of him, "Up ahead, around there! Go right!" They reached the tree-line, darting up an overgrown game trail. They scrambled through underbrush even as they heard the yetis crashing into the woods after them, billowing back and fourth in their chase.

Jack dodged around a tree, scooping Sandy up in his arms and plunging into a particularly thick patch of brambles. They cut into his arms and back, snagging on his sweatshirt as he tumbled past them, into the shadowy snow.

Lying in the cold and struggling desperately to calm their panting, Jack and Sandy waited.

A Yeti soon arrived, lumbering through the brush, shrewd eyes darting around the woods, calmly passing over their thicket. He was about to move on, when he suddenly paused, stooping. He plucked Sandy's tangled yellow scarf off of a broken branch, and looked around again, before calling over his shoulder in a foreign tongue and rumbling onward, scarf clenched in his fist.

Sandy watched Jack with wide, golden eyes.

"You can't tell anyone about this, Sandy, okay?!" Jack whispered frantically, "North's a good guy, he'd never hurt you, not if you never told anyone. Okay? Promise me you won't!"

Face piqued with cold and fear, Sandy nodded.

Jack nodded in return, "Okay."

xXx


	4. Chapter 4

_a/n:I'm really sorry for the wait, everyone! Thank you all so much for being patient. :)_

Chapter Four.

It rained in the morning, and then sleeted into the afternoon, freezing the streets and alleys slick and hard. The noisy weather finally settled into the silence of falling snow, covering the ugly, black asphalt and steel grey cement with white powder.

Jack was perched atop a dumpster, his hood drawn to block out the cold. His limbs were stiff and heavy, and he was slow and shaky, as he raised a hand to rub away the wet under his nose, letting out a shallow, foggy sigh. He had been waiting outside the restaurant for three hours- he tilted his head, snowflakes dropping from his shoulders, and burrowed his hands deeper into the pocket of his sweater to close out the cold. If North didn't come out soon, he was afraid that he'd be completely covered in white.

He had spent the better part of the morning traveling to various places around the warehouse district, asking questions and receiving no answers. The Northmen never gave him any useful information anyways, but now, they seemed particularly wary of him, as if the news of his train car escape had spread quickly, but they were vowed to silence. It had been Phil, one of North's security, that had at last taken pity on him, his beard bristling almost sadly before he had grumbled, "Tonight he'll be at The Bear. Stay out of the way," and he had returned to his work.

The Bear was really called 'The House of the Bear', and was an Irish-run pub near the docks. The owner, a red-haired leprechaun of a man named Ricky, was also the bartender, and North's solid connection to the fishing fleet. Legitimately, the fleet hauled in their catch to sell and ship, but Ricky had the line on a few boats that were known to discreetly carry cargo, when North was landlocked and couldn't get his trucks out of town. Ricky was a blaggard of a man, and cautious to the point of paranoia, but for all of his wheeling and dealing, managed to remain a lone party, unconnected to the Nothmen, the fleet, or the police. Jack had often wondered how Ricky managed to stay invisible, or how much it cost.

The snow was making it hard to see, now, and Jack had to raise his hand to block the flakes from landing on his eyelashes. The sudden fear that he had missed North entirely, or that Phil had lied to him, crossed his mind, and panic nearly gripped him, before the back door of the pub rattled open. A few stray cats rustled out from under various trashcans to approach the stoop, meowing expectantly. Jack himself leaned forward on the frozen dumpster, sniffing back his runny nose.

The size contrast between North and the bar owner was laughable, as North had to stoop to leave the doorway and Ricky had to nearly hop the steps, the crate of empty glass bottles rattling in his arms, nearly drowning out their conversation momentarily, "Ah tol' yeh a'fore, they don't need an'amer crewmen," Ricky was reasoning, as he heaved the crate onto a snow-covered stack of wooden palettes, and wiped his hands on his lap apron, "an' it'll look fairly suspect, were they ter take on _yer_ men when they've ah'ready got a full crew."

"So what? Whoever asks, they're clean," North brushed away snow that had fallen on his shoulder as Ricky crouched, delving into the pocket of his apron to pass along a few pieces of fried fish to the cats milling around his ankles. The smell of it drifted to Jack, and he suddenly found his stomach growling, "The police can find nothing. They are new men."

Ricky was shaking his head, when he straightened, "And what is Sal supposed ter do? Take on dead weight- no offense, but they are- and jus' drop it off wherever he sets port? It's _fishy_, Nicky, he won't go fer it. You can't cover his arse well enough fer him ter take the cargo, no matter the payment."

North set a hand on the small man's shoulder, sighing down at him, "Please, Ricky," North asked quietly.

Whether it was the size of North's hand on his shoulder, or the rare use of North's pleading tone, Ricky at last sighed, shrugging off the grip, "Fine. I'll give him the chin music; see if'n 'e bites. But ah doon't promise nothin'."

Jack sniffed at his runny nose again, and Ricky and North's gazes snapped to his direction. There was switchblade in Ricky's hand and a pistol in North's when Jack leapt down from the dumpster, "It's like battle of the accents, out here. What's goin' on, guys?" Jack grinned, the cats scattering away as he approached.

"Jack," North sighed, returning his gun to the holster under his coat, "You give me heart attack. Why are you here?"

Ricky, however, was not so fast to let down his guard, "Jack Frost, eh?" He leveled his pick on Jack, watching him for a few moments, "Ah've got a few eyes says they saw you gettin' cozy with Pitchner."

Jack glared down at him, "I'm not _cozy_ with _anyone_."

Ricky laughed, "'course not." He flicked to blade away, stowing in in his back pocket. He tipped his hat to North, "If'n our business is concluded this fine evening, I've got a bar to run. And I'd rather keep me affairs private, if it's all the same."

"Thank you, Ricky," North agreed, and Ricky nodded, casting a quick glance at Jack before ascending the steps and shutting the door behind himself.

Jack glared after him, "Little bastard, what's he know?" he muttered bitterly.

"Watch your mouth. And quite a lot, really," North waved off Jack's animosity, "Why are you here, Jack? What do you want?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I'm not friends with Pitch," Jack insisted, a shiver shaking his shoulders.

"It would not matter if you were. I trust you, Jack," North smiled at him, and delved into the pocket of his long coat, pulling out a cell phone. He checked it for a few moments, before stowing it away again, "Walk with me."

They strode side-by-side down the alleyway, "Trust me enough to let me know about your stash at the train yard?" Jack questioned.

North paused only for a half of a second, "I cannot keep you from knowing something you already know."

"Why do you need fake identities, North? Are you selling them?" Jack asked, his brows furrowing, "If Pitch finds out, you could go down for... I don't know, I just know it'd be bad, okay? You said you trust me- just tell me what's going on."

North nodded, "It is your little friend I am having the trouble trusting."

Jack froze in his tracks, "Sandy," he breathed.

"That is his name? I don't know anything about him, Jack. Just that he was at train yard with you. But you are like me, Jack- you have very good sense of character. And you are smart boy." North lowered his voice, gripping Jack's shoulder, "Jack, please. Just stay away."

Jack tore away from North's touch, "Or what?!" he demanded, anger hot in his chest, "I don't have anything, North! Not even a chance! Why shouldn't I just go to Pitch right now?!" His face burned, as he waited for North to answer him.

A look of pain seemed to cross North's face, before his eyes grew cold, "His name was Sandy, yes?"

_ Criminals have no room in their lives for anyone but themselves._

Jack stared at North in horror.

North turned away, "Just stay away, Jack." He strode away from him, out of the alley, climbing into the red Cadillac Escalade that was idling curbside. But his shoulders were stooped, his huge form seeming far older.

xXx

His frozen knuckles scuffed as he struck the door three times, and paused to wait, blowing air into his palms and dancing on his stinging feet, trying to blink away the headache that made him dizzy. It felt like forever before the door opened, and the snow was melting into his hair and hood, making his head heavy, "Hey," Jack greeted quickly.

Sandy blinked at him in the doorway, looking confused for a few moments, before a smile swept over his round features, half-covered with shaving cream, and he nodded in cheerful greeting.

"How are you-" Jack raised his hand to touch his nose, trying to shake another dizzy feeling flooding his senses, and his cheek met the floor.

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Water woke him, and he thrashed violently, splashing in the hot downpour, "Get off me!" Jack cried, tearing away from the grip on his shoulders. He slipped down, sputtering and gasping as water flooded his mouth and nostrils. The back of his head struck something and his vision flashed, dizziness returning, and he surfaced, a small yelp escaping him as he scrambled back in the bathtub, raising an arm to defend himself.

The water shut off, and Sandy was panting raggedly, frowning at Jack.

"What the hell is going on? Where am I?" Jack demanded. He raised a hand to touch the back of his head, wincing at the tender bruise already beginning to form.

Sandy sat back from his place at the side of the bathtub, rubbing wet from his face onto his shoulder. Water from Jack's struggling discolored spots on his yellow button-down and travel-worn brown slacks, and a scratch was growing angry on his cheek, marred with day-old blonde stubble. He sighed.

"What happened?" Jack asked, a little calmer.

Sandy dusted his knees and pointed toward the bathroom door, then to Jack, and made a downward motion, ending it with a loud, flat clap. He paused, and made a motion of rubbing his arms and looking unhappy, before pointing, once more, to Jack.

"I was cold? And hit something? Oh, the floor. Did I pass out or something?" Sandy nodded. Jack looked down at himself, the water tinted with dirt from his clothes, "how did I get in here?"

Sandy's smile re-surfaced, and he flexed proudly.

Jack laughed, "Good going."

Sandy shrugged, and made a small circle with his hands, as if around Jack's waist, shaking his head worriedly.

"I am not too thin," Jack grumbled, and shifted in the tub. The warm water felt good, on his feet, and he wiggled his toes to feel the heat between them. He let out a sigh, shutting his eyes to inhale the steam, "Thanks, Sand-man."

Jack looked up as the bathroom door clicked shut, and a thin, worn towel was folded on the lip of the sink, a bar of soap beside it. Jack smirked, "Yeah, I guess I _do _need a bath."

He may have taken too long it the hot water, and emerged some time later from the bathroom. He had left his clothes hanging over the shower curtain to drip dry, and had wrapped the rough towel around his waist, hesitant as he emerged, "Sandy?"

The hotel room was warm; the thermostat must have been turned up, and the soft drone of daytime television leveled with the bright white light of snow through the blinds. Sandy was asleep at the small side table, his hand submerged in a patched sock, apparently half-way through folding it when slumber had overcome him. Jack smiled, and crept across the room quietly, glancing at the television as he passed on the way to the small kitchenette station.

An open package of cookies was on the countertop and whether or not left for him, Jack plucked up a few, stuffing one in his mouth and instinctively moving to place the others in pocket. He shrugged, and took the package with him on his way to the bed, flouncing down to watch _The Price is Right._

xXx

There was a knock at the door, and Jack jumped. He glanced to Sandy, whom only continued to sleep on, his sock having at last found its way to the floor. Hesitantly Jack got to his feet, creeping across the floor, wincing as there was more knocking. He craned his neck to squint through the peephole of the hotel room door.

Panic immediately seized him, and he retracted from the door as if it would burn him. "Tooth!?" he whispered to himself, heart thundering in his chest, "What is she _doing_ here!?"

Another knock, more insistent, "Jack?" he heard her call.

Jack bolted to the bathroom, hurriedly pulling his still damp clothes on, smoothing them as well as he was able before emerging into the rest of the hotel room in a mad rush. If he could just get her to stay outside, and keep Sanderson asleep, this might all work out for the better...

Jack wrenched the door open, as Toothiana jumped back with alarm, "Hey, Tooth!" Jack greeted cheerfully, careful to keep his voice lower than the volume of the television, "what's up, what's going on?"

Tooth blinked for a moment, before regaining her senses, "Hello, Jack," she replied, and cleared her throat, "Yes, I... I was only in the neighbor hood, and Aster- well, I was told you were staying here... I checked at the front desk, and the man said-"

"You came to check up on me?" Jack interrupted brightly, his smile just a bit too wide, "Aw thanks, Tooth, that's real sweet of you..." but he trailed off, as he glanced over his shoulder, only to find Sanderson's chair empty. He bit his tongue to keep from cursing, "But I'm doing just fine, see?"

"Yes," Tooth said, and smiled, "yeah, I guess... I guess I just had trouble... I mean, I wanted to..." And she froze.

Jack felt an elbow in his side, as Sandy pushed past him, yawning and rubbing one of his eyes to look up at their visitor. He spotted Tooth and froze similarly, before red flushed his cheeks in embarrassment, and he set to work hurriedly buttoning his shirt around the scar across his throat and situating his tie around his neck, extending his hand with a warm smile of greeting.

Tooth looked to Jack, speechless, and Jack chuckled uncomfortably, "Uh, Tooth, meet Sandy."

Tooth stooped to shake his hand, "Um, how do you do?"

"Sandy, this is Tooth. Remember, I told you about her at the train station?" and Sandy was nodding, "Yeah, Sandy and I met-" Jack paused, as Tooth was glaring, her arms folded across her chest, "...what?"

"Is this the stranger you've been running around with, the one that got you in to trouble at the train station?" Tooth demanded.

Sanderson looked between the two speaking people, his face forming fear and frustration. Jack glared at Tooth.

"No one's getting me in to trouble, okay? And it's none of _your_ business!" Jack paused, "wait a minute. Who told you I was down at the train station?"

"It doesn't matter! Jack, I can't stand to see you getting in with riff-raff-"

"Tooth, who told you?!" Jack demanded, baring his teeth. His breath steamed in the afternoon air, as silence fell between them.

"It doesn't matter," Tooth repeated.

"Tell me," Jack growled. He did not remove his stare from hers, and at last her eyes darted to her feet before her.

"North."

"_What_?" Jack looked down at Sandy, whom had begun to loose color in his face, "What did he say, exactly?"

Tooth frowned down at Sanderson, "Only that you were seen by a few of the Yetis making trouble down at the train station. With who I can only assume was _him_."

"This is Sandy, and we were only walking," Jack defended his friend, whom had only returned to his uncomfortable smiling, only seeming to make matters worse, "tell North to mind his own business."

"And you're staying with him?" Toothiana asked sharply.

"Yes," Jack replied, but Sandy was rapidly shaking his head, waving his hands negatively, looking between Tooth and Jack as he stepped back. Jack watched him, confused, before Tooth nodded.

"I see. What happened to your face?" She questioned with equal severity.

"What? Oh, that?" Jack raised a hand to touch his cheek, feeling the dark, puffy bruise from where he had collided with the floor, "I fell..." Tooth's gaze was boring in to Sandy, whom was only gaping at Jack's responses, "why are you staring at him?" Jack demanded, annoyed.

Tooth broke her eyes from Sandy, and smiled at Jack, "It was nice seeing you again. I'm very sorry I dropped in unannounced; I'll call ahead, next time. I have to go," and she added, in a slightly more ominous tone, "It was nice meeting you, Sandy." Before departing.

Jack watched her head toward her car, before he was pushing Sandy back in to the hotel room urgently, shivering in his damp clothes as he shut the door behind himself. Sandy was watching him with wide eyes, expression similar to the one he had worn at the train station only a few days earlier, and he made a few gestures at Jack.

"Of course she's calling North," Jack replied, "I'm so sorry, Sandy, I got you in to all of this..." Jack was rushing around the hotel room, scooping up Sandy's few possessions (rather odd articles, including old comic books and extra shoelaces) and piling them into the brown leather travel trunk, "You've got to get out of town. I don't know what Tooth is thinking, but she's definitely up to no good. She can be so stupid, when she 'mothers'! You got to catch the bus down at the station, I'll go and see if I can buy you some time..." he jumped with a yelp, as there was a sudden crash.

Sandy's face was gathered in frustration, and he huffed, seeming a little wary that he had broken a cheap ceramic vase against the wall. Sandy dusted his hands, taking a deep breath, before beginning his suggestive signaling, but Jack shook his head.

"Sandy, I'm not in the mood to translate, okay? We've just got to get you out of here. North will come looking for you, and he'll want answers. He's a good guy, Tooth and Bunny, too- they just won't listen. None of them will listen to me."

And Jack knew what he had to do.

xXx

_a/n: as an aside, the way Tooth and Jack converse around Sandy during the meeting scene is considered very, very rude. Mute people are completely capable of conversation, they just do it differently than speaking people; speaking of them in third person is horrible, and I hope everyone realizes this. :)_


	6. FINAL CHAPTER

FINAL CHAPTER.

The lobby of the police station smelled like the drunk sleeping next to Jack, on the stiff bench. He had been waiting a half an hour, before two constables arrived to escort the stranger away, and Pitch approached him, smiling with his hands folded behind his back, "Jack," he greeted gently, "I'm so happy you stopped in. Can I get you something hot to drink? Coffee?"

"Sure," Jack replied, standing.

"Please, follow me," Pitchner beckoned him, leading him across the marble floor, past the front desk, and toward the stairs. Jack's footfalls were soundless, like a soft and faint echo of the sharp tapping of Pitch's boots.

Jack followed Pitch and the smell of coffee in to what looked like a break room of some kind, a few similarly uniformed men lounging near a cabinet, laughing with cigarettes in their mouths. They fell immediately silent, when Pitch entered, and he only gazed at them coolly for a few moments, before they extinguished their cigarettes and hurried out, leaving them alone.

"Please, sit," Pitch motioned to the sagging sofa, and Jack flounced down on it as Pitchner went the cabinet to retrieve a cup, "sorry for the accommodations, and for this swill- I can't say how long it's been here," he passed a steaming mug to Jack, taking a sip of his own before grimacing, "it's properly awful."

"'S alright," Jack replied, taking a mouthful of the bitter, hot liquid. They were silent for a small while.

"You look cold, Jack." Pitch commented at last.

Jack shrugged a shoulder, "Yeah, well, it's January."

"Might I ask why you're here?" Pitch questioned in his normal, calm fashion, but the gleam in his golden eyes betrayed his internal excitement. Jack ignored it, instead swallowing and justifying his actions to himself once more.

_It's the only way. Sandy didn't do anything, this is all my fault, and If North would only..._

"I just wanted to talk," Jack replied.

"You know, Jack- have you ever considered joining the academy? You're a sharp young man, a smart young man. Toothiana says you had exceptional marks, in the home. I'm certain the entrance exam would be no trouble for you at all-"

"I need to know why you hate North so much, before I tell you anything," Jack demanded. Pitch's smiled faded, as Jack watched him, "Those are my terms." He needed to know. He needed more, to convince himself that what he was doing was right.

"That's a deeply personal question, Jack," Pitch answered after a time of silence. Jack shrugged, taking another sip, and Pitch sighed, "Very well. It's not as if it's a secret.

"I have a daughter. Well, no, that's not right," Pitch paused again, and swallowed, "I _had _a daughter. I _had _a family." He looked away from Jack to speak, his gaze distant with a soft smile, "We lived in a rough neighborhood. It was all we could afford, with the salary I was making, so new to the force. We made the best of it. We didn't even have a car; my wife would walk our child three city blocks to her kindergarten." His smile slipped from his face, dark clouds of hate gathering on his features, before he spat, "There were gangs, in the area. And a young man, feeling he had no chance of becoming a productive member of society, felt obligated to join one of them..." he looked to Jack, his eyes sharp with anger, "Do you know what 'blood in' means, Jack?"

Jack shook his head, the coffee cold in his hands.

"It means you have to kill for the gang. To become a member, you must shed blood. A young man- around your age, I'd say- shot and killed my wife and daughter in an alley two streets away from the grammar school." He was silent again, glaring at nothing.

Jack swallowed, and tore his gaze from Pitch, looking down into his black coffee.

"They did _nothing_ to deserve their deaths. A stranger passing by witnessed the crime and tried to intercede, and they beat him in to a coma. They had used the last of their bullets on my wife and daughter, so they slit the man's throat and left his body with theirs in the rubbish." Pitch took a swig of his coffee, emptying the cup and dropping it on the countertop, "Innocents are hurt by criminals, Jack. As harmless as their intentions may seem, these Robin Hoods, these... _Norths_... kill people. I don't hate North, Jack..." his tone had softened again, and a smile plucked at the side of his lips, "I hate them _all_."

xXx

The Yetis would be out looking for Sandy, Jack had made sure, expecting Pitch to gather an attack squad and raid the warehouse. But, to Jack's surprise, Pitch had done nothing of the sort, merely gathering the keys of a patrol car and telling Jack to take him to North.

Jack sat in the back of the patrol car, ignoring Pitch watching him in the rearview mirror, listening the static code of the dispatcher over the radio. There was a car accident on fifth, and a fire somewhere. Jack tried to ignore his growing panic, swallowing as they passed the chain link front gate of the warehouse yard.

"Where is it, Jack?" Pitch questioned.

"Just keep driving," Jack answered, his eyes intent on the passing warehouses. Pitch only nodded, and they continued on in silence, before- "Stop. There," Jack pointed to a rusted door, green spray paint marking his destination.

The squad car pulled to a stop outside the double doors, and the chirp of a siren made Jack nearly jump out of his skin. Pitch shut off the engine, and kicked open his door, "Stay put, Jack," he murmured, checking his sidearm, "I don't want you ruining the surprise." He settled his hat on his head and stepped out.

"Wait, what? No! Pitch, wait a second!" Jack stammered, gripping the wire mesh that separated them, "Pitch! Let me out of here!" His blood ran cold, as Pitch strode toward the warehouse, "Oh, God, North... I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his breath fogging in the chill.

North suddenly loomed in the yawning doorway, and Pitch stilled. North was wiping his hands on a rag, and glanced between Pitch and Jack in the back of the squad car, his brows furrowing with worry, "What is going on, here?" he questioned.

"Hello, North," Pitch greeted gently, smiling, "Young Jack here has been down at the station telling me some fantastic tales about you."

North looked to Jack, "Oh?"

"North, I had to!" Jack cried, his voice muffled through the glass, "I couldn't let you hurt Sand-man, he didn't do anything wrong!" But even in his own ears, Jack's words felt tinny and hollow, "I'm sorry..."

Sadness seemed to collect on North's face, his great shoulders bowing as he nodded, "I see." He returned his attention to Pitchner, tossing the rag away, "What is it you want, Pitch?"

Pitch looked airy and elated, as he folded his arms behind himself, "Why don't we take a small ride? Jack says he had yet more to show me."

North did not look at Jack again, and nodded again, "This I will do. But if I come with you, you must promise me- my men will be left alone."

Pitch scoffed, "They mean nothing, to me. And without you, they will scatter. Done."

North stepped forward, extending his hand to Pitchner, who shook it.

Jack felt a tear slide down his cheek.

The ride to the Train yard was hell, perfect silence, as it seemed even the radio had abandoned its obnoxious singing out of respect of North's surrender. Jack stared at the huge man in the passenger seat, yearning for a glance, a word for him. But North would not move.

It was when they pulled in to the train yard and Pitch at least released him from the back seat that North spoke, and the words were for Jack, "Lead on, Jack."

They trudged through the snow, a train blasting by the trio traveled onward, and Jack shut his eyes to stop the tears. He remembered how it had been, seeing North leave him, all those Christmases, the only evidence he had been there at all the gifts he left for him and the other boys, but Jack had never gotten what he had wished for, every year; North. He remembered the way Tooth comforted him, when he had questioned why he was alone, but had never made an attempt to answer why no one had wanted him. And Bunnymund, a good man... but one that kept him on a shelf, as if afraid to touch him else he would break.

And Sandy, whom had walked with him silently on these same tracks only a few days previously, before everything in the world changed, and froze.

"What?!" Pitch demanded, breaking Jack out of his trance-like thoughts. Jack stilled, and looked back at him, before following his gaze to the thick, inky smoke that billowed up, over the snow. Pitch pushed past him, racing toward the fire, and North looked to Jack, sharing his confusion, before they followed after Pitch.

"What is this?!" Pitch cried, as they came across the train car, engulfed in flames and smoke, "No!" He raced toward the flames, before the heat forced him back, "NO!" He turned on Jack, "You!" Jack recoiled, as Pitch's lean form bared down on him like a manifestation of the smoke, "You're under arrest for obstruction of justice!"

North gripped him by the arm, letting out a low growl, and Pitch's face seized with pain and fear. North immediately released him, "It's over, Pitch. Leave him alone."

Pitch gathered his composure once more, "I _will_ take you down, North. You, and the rest of this gutter trash," he spat, motioning to Jack, "I don't care how long it takes." he grabbed up his radio, storming away from them as he barked orders into it.

Jack stared up at the flames, the heat drying the tears on his face, "But..." he looked to North, "I don't understand..."

North grimaced, "We need to have talk, Jack."

xXx

Sanderson's hotel room had been empty but for a paper box of matches, and three empty cans of lighter fluid in the bathtub. They had all been cleaned of fingerprints. Pitch had demanded a name for the bolo, and Jack had only given him 'Sandman'.

Jack was numb, by the time he was left alone in the cold hotel room. He didn't have the energy to jump, when North called to him from the doorway, "Jack."

"What?"

"Tooth is here. Are you going back with her?" North questioned quietly.

Jack didn't answer him, pushing past him and leaving the hotel room empty.

To his surprise, it was not Tooth's Saturn idling curbside, but Bunnymund's Jeep. The tall shop owner was waiting for him, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, and his gaze firmly fixed on Tooth, whom waited at his side. He nudged her, as Jack approached.

Tooth's makeup was mussed and runny, her purple eyes glossy with tears. As she spotted Jack, they welled up again, and she raised her hands to her mouth, sobbing.

"Hey guys," Jack said quietly. He stared down at his feet, as the group lapsed into silence.

The wind rushed by, pushing on Jack, and he shivered.

"Jack," Tooth announced in a trembling voice, for once being the first to speak, and Jack looked up at her from under his hood. She seemed near falling apart again, before Aster griped her shoulder, and she took a deep breath, "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Jack lied.

"I betrayed you- you're a grown man, I didn't see it before, I still thought you were a child, I was jumping to conclusions-"

"We all were," Bunnymund added softly. He pushed his bangs back on his forehead, letting out a sigh, "We did yeh wrong, mate."

"That's not true!" Tooth stammered, shaking her head, "Aster tried to stop me, Jack, but I wouldn't listen- I was so angry, so scared- I love you, Jack, I couldn't stand to think-" she covered her face again, "and now _this_. Pitchner was going to throw you in jail, and it's entirely my fault!"

Jack felt a sharp pain in his chest, and swallowed, "Tooth..."

"We just..." Bunnymund bit the inside of his cheek, "we just love yeh, Jack. We want what's best for yeh..."

And Jack's anger flared, "What? _Best_ for me? Have you looked around?" He glared at each of them, even as the pain in his chest expanded and seemed to seize his throat, making it hard to breathe, "I'm fucking _homeless_! You can't help anyone if you just- if you just leave them alone! And when I needed you the most, all you would ever do was push me away! What did you _want _from me?! Any of you?! Answer me!" He demanded of them.

Tooth shook with tears, and Bunnymund watched him with a look of pain on his features, while North only hung his head.

"And then I met Sandy. None of you knew him! Sandy was just a good guy- were you _scared_ he'd help me?! That he'd listen to me when none of you had the time?! And now he's _gone_!" Jack coughed, the icy air bitter in his mouth, and he shook his head to keep his eyes from stinging, "And I'll never see him again. He was my _friend_! Could you believe that I'd have a friend? And you scared him away... is this all that it is? Are you all _scared_ of me?"

Silence answered him. Jack shook his head again, his anger collapsing as he shivered again. "Just let me in," he plead, "please. I know I'm not anything special. I don't know what I have to do to make you love me. I've tried everything-" he was interrupted as Tooth burst forward, wrapping him up in her arms.

"Jack," she whispered, kissing his cheek and looking into his eyes. She smiled, the tears gone from her face, "We _do_ love you."

"We didn't want t'push yeh away, mate," Bunnymund explained quietly. He rubbed his lips on his sleeve, "I guess we just... we messed up, Jack. And we're... _I'm_...sorry." His eyes, having spanned everywhere else on the empty street, seemed to at last meet Jack's gaze.

Aster seemed frightened.

Jack stepped away from tooth, scratching the back of his neck, "...I just need some time, okay?" he muttered, "I'm sorry guys."

Tooth looked heartbroken.

"Hey," Jack said, and smirked as she stared at him, "I'll be back, okay?" and Tooth shared his smile softly.

Aster and Tooth left North and Jack alone in the growing shadows of the approaching night, and the big man was unusually quiet, as the streetlights flickered on. He had made no attempt to apologize, nor explain his actions, and at last asked, "What are you going to do now, Jack?"

Jack looked at him, his eyes heavy and tired, "I thought you said we needed to talk."

North balked, "Well... yes, we do. I mean, I..." he trailed off, under Jack's gaze, and at last rubbed his face, cursing under his breath in Russian. He looked up and down the street for a small while, and at last tugged in his beard a bit, giving in, "okay, Jack. Let's talk."

"Why didn't you want me?" Jack asked quietly.

North looked horrified, "I never-!"

"No, you didn't say it. You didn't have to. I mean, I get that I was an annoying kid, I just don't get..." Jack looked down at his bare feet, "I don't know why you never wanted me."

North strode forward, reaching out to touch Jack's shoulder, "Jack, I _always_ wanted you. When I looked at you, I saw me... and I was scared of that. I was scared that you would end up like me." North sighed through his nose, and removed his hand, "but I was wrong."

Jack looked up at him, confused. North calmed him with a smile, "You are nothing like me, Jack. You are ten times stronger that I will ever be." North looked up at the streetlight that flickered overhead, "and a far better judge of character. Your friend- he did us all a favor. He opened _my _eyes." North delved into his pocket, drawing out something bright and yellow, and he passed it to Jack.

Sanderson's scarf. Jack felt it in his fingers for a few moments, before looking back up at North, "What were the identities for?" he asked.

"The Yetis," North answered, slipping his hands back into his pockets, "for a fresh start."

Jack stared.

"I was trying to give them new lives. Let them start over. Jack, I'm trying to go legit."

Jack let out a laugh, then stilled, "...wait, you're serious."

North nodded, shrugging shyly, "Thanks to me, all of my men have criminal records. If I were to stop operations, they would have no place to go, and couldn't find any work. But if they had new lives... well, I don't know."

"And Ricky- you were trying to find a way to get them out of here?"

"Ricky is little bastard, but he is good. He could have found a way, but now..." Jack began to apologize, before North waved him off, "No. You cannot just forget your past. You cannot run from it, or you will never find a home," he looked to Jack, "We have to face who we are."

Jack watched him, arching a brow, wondering what he meant, "What're you saying? No, wait, hold on," Jack raised his hands, stepping back, "don't screw with me, North..."

"Jack, it's too late for me to raise you. You are a man. But I would be very happy if we could be friends." North offered his hand.

Jack eyed it, unsure, "...you're saying I can crash on your couch?"

North laughed, and lunged forward, wrapping an arm around his neck and grinding his knuckles into the top of Jack's head, "You are sometimes dumbass, Jack!"

"Watch yer mouff," Jack grumbled from North's coat sleeve, squirming away from him, "Lemme go!"

"You will have to stay with Tooth a while, until I get things sorted out. And you will have to get job," North said, still choking him and stroking his mustache thoughtfully, "you are man, you will work like man." He looked down at Jack, grinning, "You work for Bunny-man!"

"Ew, no," Jack grumbled, at last prying himself free and stumbling away. But he was smiling.

"Do we have deal?" North asked, offering his hand.

Jack considered, "You stop being a crime lord, and I get a job?"

"And shoes."

Jack grinned back, and shook his hand; "sure," he lied.

END.

xXx

_Thank all of you so much for sticking with this story, as it was a true joy to write, and I hope it was fun to read, as well. Happy holidays, and never stop believing! :)_


	7. EPILOGUE

EPILOUGE.

Two years later.

JACKSON FROST was watching his breath fog in the mid-December chill when Jamie called to him, "Jack! Can we go inside, now? It's freezing!" the boy rubbed his arms, looking unhappy in the cold, overcast day.

Jack chuckled at him, shaking his head, "You think _this _is cold? It's warm, for Burgess in the winter."

Jamie rolled his eyes, "You just say that because you've been living in Arizona. Trust me, its freezing."

Jack ruffled his hair, "Going by that logic, I'd be colder than you," Jack pointed out, "now come on. As soon as we get the rest of this split, we can get back inside. Your folks expect you to do your chores."

"But _you_ didn't do your chores," Jamie pointed out.

Jack pretended not to hear, and returned to his place crouched over the electric log-splitter.

He had become something of a legend, to the boys at the home, from Toothiana's telling. And his absence hadn't helped matters, either- he'd become a veritable Peter Pan, while he was away. It amused Jack, a little, to know that he had had such an effect on the boys, but also felt a little bad about the trouble it sometimes caused Tooth.

Jack helped Jamie cart the rest of the split firewood up the steps and on to the back porch, piling against the siding and covering it in a half-frozen tarp. They made a game of shuffling the snow off of their boots, before the racket caused the back door to open, Tooth frowning at them behind the screen door, "Boys," she warned with a single word.

"Sorry, Tooth," Jack grinned.

"Sorry, mom," Jamie agreed.

They left their boots by the back door as they carried on past her in to the kitchen, joking and prodding and laughing, "Don't be two loud, you two. And don't break anything. Jamie, go and get washed up for dinner," Tooth pestered them fondly, "and Jack, Aster's out in the garage with the animals, he wanted to talk to you after you got back in." Jack nodded, and pushed Jamie in the direction of the stairs, heading off down the hall.

The cement was chill against his bare feet, but Jack ignored it as he descended the steps and pulled open the garage door, letting himself inside, "Bunny...?" he questioned.

"'Told yeh not ta call me that," Aster grumbled, dumping a plastic cup full of feeder pellets in to the porcelain feeder for the guinea pigs. He emptied the cup, and tossed in back in the open feed bag, clothes-pinning it shut. He dusted his hands, and continued on to the next animals; a pen of snoozing turtles, "Come on in, you're letting in the cold."

Jack shrugged, shutting the door behind himself. The garage held no car or tools, and smelled like a clean barn, "Looks like your own personal petting zoo is coming along nicely," Jack chided gently, "What's next, boa constrictors?"

"Not legal, in this state, mate," Aster grinned. He tossed the turtles a few leaves of lettuce, along with few sticks of carrot, "But I can admit that I've looked in to it."

"Well, just don't go getting a kangaroo or something crazy," Jack commented. He hopped up on a barrel filled with bird seed, perching comfortably, "what'd you want to talk to me about?"

Aster sighed, pushing his bangs back from his face and stretching, "It's Jamie, Jack. He's been gettin' some crazy ideas in 'is head recently, and I can't imagine where they're comin' from. I need yeh to talk to 'im, okay?"

"Talk to him about what? What sorts of ideas?" in Jack's understanding, ideas were always good things.

"It's the boys at school. You might have notice, but the kid's missin' teeth. We've been gettin' calls from the school; they're sayin' he's been gettin' in'da fights..." Aster trailed off, sighing again, "Tooth's worried sick, an' every time I ask 'im about it, he goes off claiming it's the other boys that started it first. 'E's a good kid, Jack, an' I know 'e's tellin' the truth, but I just can't..."

Jack held up a hand to stop him, "Loud and clear, bunny-man. I'll look in to it, and see what's going on. Maybe I can even give him a few pointers-" Jack laughed, as Aster was glaring, "I'm only kidding!"

Aster's expression broke in to a smile, "I can't tell him 'r' his mum, but... I'm actually a little proud of 'im. My little brumby," Aster nodded, his eyes bright, "see what yeh can do, Jack, I'd be much obliged."

Jack watched him for a few moments, before he shook his head, grinning, "You're turning out to be such a softy, in your old age."

Aster balked "Old age?! Now what the hell is that supposed teh mean?" he demanded, his face heating.

"Next you'll be asking to cuddle and read us all bedtime stories-" Jack dodged a handful of lettuce, skipping from his perch, "planting azaleas in the spring time, telling fishing stories-!" he was laughing as a carrot bounced off his shoulder.

"You're a terrible influence on my son!" Aster growled fondly, taking aim with a fistful of chicken scratch.

"Jack!" Tooth called, "Phone for you! Oh, and hun? Jack and Jamie finished cutting the wood, could you see if you can get a fire started up in the den to burn off the chill?" she shut the door without waiting for an answer.

Aster and Jack called a silent truce for the time being, and followed up the stairs after her call.

"Hello?" Jack questioned in to the receiver of the kitchen phone, wedging it between his ear and his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to sit on the counter.

"Jack," came a familiar voice, cheery, "Happy Christmas!"

"Hey, North," Jack replied, a smile spreading on to his face, "Merry Christmas! How's everything in... where are you, now?"

"Oh, here and there," North replied, his traditional accent gruff at the edges with a smile, "You know how this shipping business can be. It's so much more face-time, being legit," he complained, and Jack laughed.

"You said it yourself; a man's got to work. Sorry you won't be here for Christmas."

"Me, as well," North replied, sounding slightly forlorn, "but maybe I visit you in Snowflake, when I get back in the states for spring, da?"

"You sure?" Jack questioned as he watched Tooth pestering Jamie down the hall for his dirty nose, while Aster narrowly avoided them with an armload of wood, dropping a stick or two, "it's pretty hot, in Arizona. Your beard could combust."

North laughed, "I risk this! Hey, maybe when I get there you have cutesy little girlfriend, eh?" and he laughed again.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Hey, do you want to say hi to everyone else?"

"Ah, no, they are busy, I can hear. But I did send presents- did they get there?"

"No," Jack admitted, "Sorry, Santa Claus. The post office is terrible, this time of year. I'm sure we'll get them soon, though."

North tsked, "Never trust Christmas to the post. I fix." and the line went dead.

"Hello?" Jack questioned, confused. He tapped the receiver, "North? Hello?" Before he sighed, hanging up, "talk to you later, I guess..."

The doorbell rang, and Jack's eyes widened, "No one uses that stupid doorbell..." he whispered, his heart speeding up as he leapt down from the counter, "except..." He raced down the hall, flawlessly avoiding the staring family in his wake, and wrenched open the door, snow and icy air rushing in with the sound of booming laughter.

North hauled Jack in for a bone-crushing hug, "Surprise! Happy Christmas, Jack!"

Jack was laughing, "You jerk! You could have just told me- wait-" Aster put his arm around Tooth, the both of them smiling, "How long did all of you know? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have been a very good Christmas surprise if we did, duh," Jamie replied, crossing his arms with a matter-of-fact smile.

"Little jerk," Jack taunted him warmly, ruffling his hair again.

"Don't just stand there letting in the cold, it's freezing," Bunnymund grumped, "come inside, shut the door."

North shook his head, "I have presents, to bring to the home. But I will be back," he said, jamming his thumb back at the red truck parked at the snowy curb, "I don't want to be late!" he smiled down at Jack, "would you like to come?"

Jack nodded, and started to follow North out into the snow, before Toothiana stopped him, "Jack, you can't go out in to the cold dressed like that," she reprimanded, "at least take a scarf."

North was chuckling as Jack shut the passenger door of the tuck, "they do not even notice the shoes anymore, do they?"

Jack tucked the sunshine-yellow scarf onto the neck of his jacket, smiling back, "They're used to it."

xXx

SANDERSON MANSNOOZIE slept amongst his paperwork; a clutter of postcards, old snow globes, torn pieces of letters, medical records. It may have seemed disorderly, but Sandy held pride in his very strange ordering system, and he knew what each doodled-on scrap meant, the secret meanings behind a nibbled pencil, where each stamp came from, or the destination it was meant for, anyways.

Face-down in the mess of his memories, the smell of rain was giving him nightmares. Mute gunshots rang out, and his words made no sound, gasping for air through blood. He struggled for the safety of light beyond his shut eyelids, unable to move, before his eyes snapped open, and he immediately pushed himself away from the tabletop and back in his chair.

The waitress looked concerned at him, a pot of coffee at the ready, "Sir? Are you okay?"

Sandy nodded, rubbing at his eyes with a wary smile. He began to scoop up his mess, and the waitress could not help but scan the newspaper clippings and various other photographs and articles as he swept them in to a large manila envelope, "Are you a detective or something?" she questioned.

Sandy laughed silently, and shook his head. He stooped under the table to reach for his briefcase under his feet, unzipping it far enough to stow the lumpy package inside. He righted himself, and the waitress looked further concerned, "Are you waiting for the Greyhound transfer to Denver?" She asked hesitantly.

Cocking a brow curiously, Sandy nodded.

"Sugar, that bus left ten minutes ago," she informed him sadly. Sandy blinked slowly, his eyes spanning the tabletop before him as the fact struck home, "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" she bit her lip as Sandy shook his head, letting out a sigh. She watched, as he delved into his coat, drawing out his bus ticket to examine it. She brightened, "Hey, let me get you a cup of coffee, okay?"

Sandy looked up at her again, a smile dawning across his features, the feeling of loss vanished. He held up a hand to stop her, however, and made a few motions with his hands he hoped were translatable.

"Tea?" she immediately summarized, and Sandy beamed, nodding. She echoed his smile, "You got it," and hurried away.

Sandy seized the moment to examine the print on the back of his bus ticket, hurriedly scanning the computer-printed dates and departures. The next available bus, he gathered, was in a week.

Sandy's mouth flattened, and he looked around the empty diner. It looked so much like a million other diners he had fallen asleep in... where was this place?

Sandy felt a sheepish grin creeping up his face, and he raised a hand to scratch his nose.

What did it matter?

His tea arrived, a Mayfair 139 ceramic mug filled with steaming hot water, and a small, square, paper-wrapped Lipton teabag. The waitress seemed to hesitate again, "We don't get many orders for tea-will this be okay?"

Sandy nodded, setting to his steeping rituals, ripping open and dropping the teabag into the cup. She watched him for a few moments, before returning to herself, slightly flustered, "would you like some honey?" Sandy smiled appreciatively, and she cocked her head to the side, "You can't talk, can you?" she asked somewhat bluntly.

Slightly surprised, Sandy shook his head.

The waitress nodded, "I figured. Sorry, I didn't mean- I mean-" She seemed to be realizing her blunder quite abruptly, and took the opportunity to scamper off, "I'll get your honey."

Why was everyone always sorry? Sandy certainly wasn't. He shook his head as he watched her hurry about the waitress station, searching for honey that no one ever wanted.

Sandy plucked up his menu, and sipped his unsweetened tea, a bitterness of over steeping creeping into the delicate flavor. He reached for his spoon to fish the teabag out, his gaze lost in the blue-plate special when she arrived, setting a plastic bear on the tabletop before him, "Here you go. Sorry again, I guess I've always asked too many of the wrong questions." Sandy waved away her condolences sagely, and a smile returned to her young face, "I actually wanted to be a police detective myself. I guess that's why I thought you were. Or something, I don't know. I took some courses, over at the JC... but then I got married..." A sad look had been moving across her features, and she sobered abruptly, smiling and offering a hand, "I'm Cherie."

Sandy shook her hand, his fingertips slightly sticky with honey. The light of the full moon through the open blinds of the booth seemed to push away the false lighting overhead and see past her cover-up, applied so carefully around one of her lovely eyes.

Sandy nodded, and plucked up his napkin, scrawling out Sanderson Mansnoozie, and beneath it, Sandy.

He would be staying a while, it seemed.

END.


End file.
